Before You Become the Devil
by Millenia Marik
Summary: In a dirty war against tyrants and monsters with superior firepower, can the RED team out-man and outsmart evil before it tempts them to the other side? Rated M for violence, language, & suggestive themes. /Story #3!/
1. Act One: Business As Usual

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve. Most of this stuff remains canon; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

_P.S.: Norway? Australia? Netherlands? Russia? I love having readers from all over the world. This is fantastic! Thank you for having a gander._

_P.P.S.: I'll get you to read one day, France.._

_P.P.P.S.: A little shocked by the chapter content? Red and Blu are not just colors._

"You may feel a slight burning sensation.." warned the Medic.

Blu base. Infirmary. Six O'clock P.M.

The area was rather empty, its double doors currently locked with a red light glowing over the top. For the moment it was a restricted area, a place of sterilized solitude shared only by the head Medic and his current patient, a Blu Pyro.

Perhaps patient was the wrong word. Patient would imply the need for care. It would imply injury in need of repair - clearly that was not what was happening here..

The man had been stripped from the waist up, his uniform pooled around his hips as he sat grudgingly on one of the medical cots. The option of laying down had been offered to him, though he preferred a more dominant and upright position if he was going to be subjected to anything with a likelihood of pain. To his side, the Swiss Medic was rubbing oil over his right arm with a sponge. Flexing his fingers, he wound the liquid substance across his palm and between his digits. If he was going to be tested, he might as well do a thorough job of it.

It was certainly an odd thing to witness as the Medic stepped away to pick up a long-nosed lighter and snapped the flame to life. The Pyro didn't even move, his sunken blue eyes staring into the flickering light as it was brought nearer. He didn't even wait for the Medic to come close enough, reaching actively toward the lighter and dancing his fingertips through the fire which quickly tasted and then raced across the oil coating his scarred flesh.

How beautiful..

He stared at his arm, seeing the flames lick and flow at a slow, syrupy pace as they followed the paths of those old scorch marks stretching from wrist to shoulder and then engulfed the entire limb up to the bicep. In actuality it had taken only a moment, but to him.. To _him_ it was a full-length feature.

"Vhell.." the Medic commented, observing the spectacle with a neutral expression, "Can you feel eet?"

"Ja, zhe flesh is burning.." said the Pyro though he did nothing about it.

The Medic sneered, grabbing a flame-resistant blanket and quickly smothering the Pyro's arm until only thin trails of smoke escaped from beneath it, "Vhe vhill amend de formula und raise your dosages."

Watching the Medic walk off to his medical cabinet, the Pyro shuffled the blanket down from his arm. He tilted his head at the charred, smoke-laden flesh as though disappointed that the fire had gone..

It was not the first time the two of them had done this - the deep pock marks and stretched flesh on various parts of his young body stood testament to that. The plan, initially, had been to develop a chemical capable of strengthening the skin in the same way as a Medigun without actually using one. In a sense, it would be a pocket-sized Übercharge. A natural resistance to shrapnel, lower-grade bullets, and, most of all, to fire.

"Perhaps if you vhould schtop playing vhizh fish, vhe vhould heff zhe drug by now, ja?" the Pyro offered snidely, receiving only a dismissive shrug from the head Medic as he came back to clean up the burns with alcohol and then use the Medigun to erase the more severe damage.

"Patience, Herr Pyro.. Zhere is importance in all dat vhe do.."

The Pyro stared evenly into the man's pale eyes, a look of painfully obvious doubt on his gaunt face. As far as he was concerned, the Tentaspy and any efforts to build on his design were an utter waste of time and resources even_ while _the abomination was still in their custody. It would be more efficient to focus solely on improving their current fighters rather than trying to create new ones from scratch. But he wasn't one of the Medics - his expertise was limited to his line of work, to fire. He also kept a second job, caretaker of any Red prisoners who managed to go unscathed by the Blu Medics and their mad experiments. That expertise was some of his finest work - torture.

It was because of this that his insubordination and disrespect were tolerated by the senior staff.

Despite his youth, the Pyro had a special gift for breaking the spirits of anyone he wanted with the grace of a Spy and the insanity of a Blu Medic. A special fire burned in his heart every time fresh meat was brought to the base and often times, if the rest of the Blus did not provide quickly enough, he would pluck a Red from the field for his own devices.

The light above the infirmary doors shifted to green as they swept open and granted the Pyro access.

Leaving the Medic behind, he shrugged his suit up over his shoulders and reached to zip it properly. He stalked right past the green-eyed Spy, ignoring him entirely as the man continued leaning against the corridor wall and smoked a cigarette. He acted nonchalant, turning his head subtly after the Pyro and watching him go. It wasn't until the man had disappeared from view that he casually pushed off from the wall and plucked his cigarette from his lips to blow a bit of smoke and crush it under his heel.

He'd learned much in the days since his arrival, most of it surrounding the politics of the Medics and the general body language of the Blu team. Stay cool, stay calm and, most of all, stay disassociated with everyone. Every man had his own cliques, of course, but no one seemed openly friendly or helpful where it wasn't required.

As he strode up the hall at a relaxed pace, the disguised Red stole a glance at the wall clock. Mm.. Max would be expecting him.

Max, or rather Maximillien as he had come to learn, was his pseudo lover and gossip source. He seemed to know everything about everyone ranging from current work assignments down to favorite colors. He had all of the senior members pinned to a T, the newer Blus merely a work in progress that kept him busy in between his real job and the short catnaps he called sleep.

In no time flat he stood before the man's door, hand lifted to knock when suddenly it swung inward and the man inside reached out to grab him by his tie.

The door shut with force, the card reader off to the side of it flickering to red as the automatic lock engaged.

Grabbing the Blu by his arm, the disguised Red thrust him up against the closed door and jammed his shoulder into his chest to wind him. The Blu Spy grinned devilishly and wrapped his arms around the green-eyed man, wasting no time in pulling tighter on his tie to the point where it nearly choked him as they fell together and began making out. The Red had become used to this sort of treatment, having fallen into a usual schedule with this particular Spy. At least once a day they came together to unwind - sometimes dirty talking, sometimes a bit more..

He grabbed the Blu by his waist, more or less sweeping him off his feet and knocking him down onto the bed where he proceeded to follow and straddle him. They kissed and released one another several times, ties loosened and suit jackets falling open as if the buttons weren't even there anymore. They both had the skilled hands of thieves, their dexterity allowing them to shut their eyes and proceed blindly. Wandering from the Blu's mouth, the Red Spy sent a trail of soft kisses down his jaw line and over his throat which he offered willingly.

Slipping an index finger beneath the man's mask, he tauntingly lifted it and licked the pale and forbidden flesh beneath. He then sent an aroused flush to the Blu's cheeks as he closed his lips over the man's Adam's apple and suckled gently at it before moving lower to give his collar bone a similar treatment. Growling with pleasure, the Blu shoved him off to one side and quickly crawled on top of him in order to push aside his shirt and nip at his right nipple. It stiffened in response and spurred the Blu to continue until both of them were red-faced with lust and exchanging glances of carnal desire.

What happened in the hours to follow was predictable of course, and it wasn't until they'd finished that any words passed between them.

They passed a cigarette back and forth, laying side by side in the Blu's bed as the Red Spy gnawed gently at the man's earlobe, "How long do you think we'll be able to do this before the Reds break up our fun time?"

The Blu chuckled, turning his head to nuzzle the half-clothed man beside him. He'd regained his shirt and waistcoat (unbuttoned), but not much else for the time being. "I don't know.. Maybe we can make up for eet on zhe field?" He exhaled warmly across the ridge of the Red's brow, pressing the shared cigarette against his pursed lips and letting him take it. "A quiet shack perhaps? A leetle romantic spot een zhe forest?"

"No one would miss us," the Red agreed, grinning past the cigarette as he took a pleasant drag from it.

In the lower levels of the base, things were not moving as smoothly for the other Red infiltrator..

Stripped of his helmet and goggles, he sat confined to a small holding cell without windows or so much as a bed to sleep on without a single shred of mystery to label him as the Spy he was.

He'd been discovered just the other day in a most embarrassing fashion while pretending to construct the Tentaspy tank which would be housed in the large laboratory just down the hall from the little hole in the wall in which he was seated. A few other Engineers were there to help, some of them seeming to know what to do though clearly he was to be their main instructor.

Silent command after vague silent command - the men had begun to look suspicious..

He could feel fear creeping up his spine, the calculated and intelligent looks of the Blu Engineers completely dominating his limited technical expertise. They began to quiz him, asking trivial things at first. 'Where does this go?' 'Can you give me a hand with this?' After that, the questions became more direct and technical, leaving him staring when asked if the 'electronic pulse filter had been installed yet'. He'd said yes - they'd said there was no such thing and immediately he realized his mistake.

Despite his best hand-to hand techniques, the men were able to overpower him. He could still feel the ache of a pipe wrench blow to the side of his head, his vision clouded with disorientation even after having ample time to recover in the solitude of his cell. No Medic came to check on him, no one came to bring by provisions. His mouth felt horribly parched, spittle refusing to form no matter how many times he coughed and rolled his tongue against the back of his throat.

He'd been left to die here, he realized, eyes unfocused on the heavy iron door that separated him from the halls he had once walked with liberty.

Far below the active half of the base, he knew his partner would never find him..


	2. Doctor Astor

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve (OCs belong to AgentMoore and SeveruSeprentine of ). Most of this stuff remains canon as far as classes go; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

_P.S.: Mature content warning._

"What do you want to do?" asked a Blu Soldier, his cigar currently held in his hand as he blew smoke down over his lower jaw and leaned forward on the briefing room table.

The head Medic leaned back as a result, his broad palm curled around his chin as he gave it a thoughtful rub, "I zhink vhe should bolster de defenses east of de mountain. No doubt zhey vhill be following in our footschteps.."

A Spy stepped around behind him, reaching forward to lift the battle plan from the tabletop and hold it to the light with a small smirk. "I think zhat eez a wonderful idea, Herr Medic," he said, grey eyes moving down to the Swiss man as he took a short drag from his cigarette, "Shall I inform zhe men?"

"Ja.. Und send de Pyro to my office. I heff a job for him.."

The few men gathered sat in silence until the Spy snapped his fingers and everyone began to disperse. Orders were set, plans were made. They were going to be ready for the Reds before they even got here.

Walking up the hall leading from the briefing room, the lead Medic pulled his arms to a respectable fold behind his back and looked straight ahead. His thoughts were already moving away from the advancement of the Reds, more interesting things coming to mind such as the aquatics project and the Red Spy who had been captured only three days ago.

He knew no one had fed the man and that, by this point, he would either be dead or very close to it. That was where the Pyro came in.

"Herr Doktor," someone called from the right.

Looking that way, he paused to find said Pyro waiting only a few paces up the hallway. He looked eager - expectant. The Medic could not help but smile; it was almost as if the Pyro already knew what he was going to ask.

"You heff kept me vhaiting.." said the Pyro. His words were spoken with chilling clarity, his mask often shucked once he stepped off of the field.

The Medic did not appear intimidated by it, he merely paused out of common courtesy and turned toward the young man with a fond smile. "Astor, mein Junge.. Zhe vhait is over. You may proceed as you see fit." He blinked gently, adding, "Try not to kill him so fast, ja? Vhe vhould alvheys be heppy to heff him vhen you are finished."

The Pyro smirked subtly, eyes narrowed with malicious intent as he pushed off from the wall and stepped entirely too close to the Medic. Curling his index finger around the man's tie, he tilted his head and allowed that smirk to become a grin, "Danke schön.." he said airily, "I vhill try to play nice, but I can make no promises.." After that he stepped away, dragging his palm flat across the lead Medic's chest until it simply dropped off and fell naturally against his side.

Gazing after him for a moment or so, the Swiss doctor smiled and continued on toward the infirmary where his next 'patient' would surely be waiting for him.

The faux Engineer was still sitting in his cell when the Pyro finally arrived, sitting being an incredibly loose term to apply to the man who had crawled into one corner of the tiny room to lean fully against the wall. He barely registered the man's footsteps, eyes lifted tiredly to watch as the door screeched open and a dark shape clothed in a full-body suit stepped inside.

The figure looked back cautiously as though fearful it was being followed as it slowly closed the door and reached up to pull off the gas mask it was wearing. Beneath it was a shock of black hair sweeping back from the youthful face of the man who owned it, his pale blue eyes glinting against the light coming in under the door as he turned around and approached the fallen Spy.

Saying nothing, he kneeled down and set aside his mask and the bag he had carried in over his shoulder. The Spy shut his eyes, breathing laboriously and only opening them when he felt a hand on his shoulder. The Pyro was frowning at him, concern creasing those thin eyebrows, "Herr Spy, are you avhake?"

The Spy blinked slowly, head shifting against the cold wall as he swallowed dryly and croaked out something unintelligible.

Sighing gently, the Pyro took to rifling through his bag and produced a bottle of water and a straight straw which he placed inside of it after he deftly unscrewed the cap, "I can't believe zhey vhere so rough wizh you. Here.. Trink zhis, ja?" He lifted the water, guiding the end of the straw against the Spy's parched lips. Unable to speak at the moment, the Red weakly accepted it and tried not to mind the Pyro as he reached forward to tuck a lock of burnt-orange hair away from his face. "Zhey tell me you vhere trying to infiltrate, ja? You shouldn't have done zhat.."

Drinking in silence, the Spy choked and sighed through his nose with a mixture of discomfort and relief. He'd probably have emptied the whole bottle in one go if the Pyro didn't see fit to stop him. Pulling the straw away, he set the whole ensemble aside and cradled the Spy's face with both gloved hands in order to peer at it from either side.

"Vhell.." he said, "It looks like I am just in time, Herr Spy. You look terrible.."

For the next twenty minutes, the Pyro sat with him and gradually nursed back some of his health. He did not unfasten the binds that held his wrists and ankles, but he did grant the Red much welcomed food and water until he no longer appeared to be on death's door. Every now and then, the Pyro would pause and look worriedly toward the door as though he wasn't supposed to be in the room. The Red began to wonder if perhaps he was a traitor..

"Are you feeling better, Herr Spy?" he asked, eyes moving from the door to the fake Engineer seated in front of him. The Spy only nodded, his tongue rather capable of speech now though he decided to try and milk his mute act for everything it was worth. "Sehr gut.." the Pyro murmured. Again he reached forward, stroking the man's hair into a more orderly fashion as he continued to speak, "Vhat vhere you doing here? Don't you know how dangerous it is?"

The Red blinked at him a few times, saying nothing and looking aside.

Unsatisfied with the man's silence, the Blu patted his upper arm to try and grab his attention, "Herr Spy.. I need to know vhat you vhere doing. I know vhat can get a man killed in dis place. If it vhasn't so bad.. maybe I can convince zhem to let you go?" The Spy looked at him again, eyes searching the Blu's for a long time before he began fidgeting his hands behind himself, attempting sign language.

The Pyro watched him wiggling in place for a little while, holding onto the man's shoulder and peering around it to watch the little finger symbols he was trying to make. He smiled subtly, looking concerned again when he leaned back to meet the Red's eyes, "Es tut mir Leid, Herr Spy.. I don't know sign language." The Red did his best to look disappointed at not being understood, his act bolstered by his already pathetic appearance. This is why it came as a surprise when the Pyro curled his index finger under the Spy's chin and asked, "Vhy don't you just tell me?"

Blinking with mild worry, the Spy tried to keep things moving. He shook his head subtly in a 'no' to which the Pyro suddenly narrowed his eyes and.. smirked.

"Vhy don't you speak, Herr Spy? Are you.. _Oh_, are you mute?" a fake tone of discovery lay in his voice, eyes locked on the Red's.

He knew. The Red knew he knew.

"Vhell.. Are you sure? I mean.. Are you _sure_ you can't talk? You can't make any noise, Herr Spy?" The man watched the Pyro reach toward the bag with his free hand, pale blue eyes never leaving him even as he drew a butterfly knife from it and unfolded it with the same dexterity that he himself might have had were ropes not binding his wrists. The corner of his mouth tightened, gaze drawn back toward the Pyro who blinked softly and smiled as he brought the cold metal up to the Spy's chin and poked gently at the sensitive flesh of his throat.

"No noise at all?"

".."

The knife suddenly dropped lower, plunging deep into his right shoulder and lodging itself in the socket. "_HaAaaah!" _the Spy gasped, teeth ground together as he pushed his chin down against the Pyro's stern hand and willed himself to remain as silent as possible.

His shoulder shook with the sudden pain, a twitch forming around the Pyro's knife as blood began meandering down his suspender strap. Just as he gained some sense of coping, the blade twisted, a sick, wet popping noise sounding off as his entire shoulder pulled hard in its socket. His arm felt as though it were on fire, a pained wail escaping past his clenched jaw as the Spy shut his eyes and held his breath. Unable to do so for too long, he panted audibly, breath hitching in his attempts to stay in control as the Pyro ripped out the knife and admired the beads of red drizzling down toward the handle.

He smiled and hummed lazily, eyes sliding toward the Spy and then back to the knife as he tasted at the soiled blade and let the excess drip down his chin. The Spy opened an eye, trying to open the other one and focus on the man before him. He could only stare with disgust as the Pyro licked the knife clean and then leaned in close to nuzzle the side of his face. Instinctively he turned his head, wrenching it out of the Pyro's hold in order to stare at the wall.

Grabbing him by the chin, the Pyro forced back his gaze and admired the look of discomfort on his face. "Ohh Herr Spy.. I am _sohrry_.. It's only de first date, ja? You don't like me so close.." The Red inclined his chin pridefully, his panting reduced to short huffs as he glared down the length of his nose at the man who held his chin so firmly.

"You heff such pretty eyes.." the Blu murmured, lifting his knife and holding the Spy firmly as he traced the blade's edge ever so softly under his right eye. "Such beautiful, pretty eyes.." The blade became a bit more firm, cutting just beneath the flesh to allow a strand of red to curve down from the corner like a teardrop. The Spy's eye flinched as a result, blinking a few times as it settled into a frowning squint. "Oh Herr Spy.." he cooed, "Do you really need both? All I vhant is a vhord.. Speak to me, hm?"

The Red Spy stared at him for a few moments, eyes lowered and lifted as he considered the many words ready to fly from his lips.

"Just a vhord, Herr Spy.. Und you can keep dese pretty eyes you heff.." the Pyro coaxed, gaze dead set on the Spy and awaiting an answer.

"Burn in Hell," the Red said coolly, his voice full of bravado despite the uncertainty of that knife. He braced himself, fully expecting retaliation as he saw the Pyro's sleep-deprived eyes widen at his words.

"Burn.." the Blu purred.

He smiled. He smiled!

"Burning is so nice, Herr Spy.. So very nice.." He began to pet the Spy's face with the flat side of the knife as he wiggled it down toward the man's chest and began to draw an infinity symbol from one side to the other through the material of his Engineer outfit. "Tell me, Herr Spy.. Vhat vhere you doing here? Hmmm? You can tell me.. I vhon't tell anybody," he reassured sweetly.

The Red tried not to get sucked into the hypnotic tracings of the knife, fighting down panic as he held his gaze steadfast and shifted his jaw. He could feel the Pyro clamp onto it even tighter, his fingers surely creating dark grooves in his maskless flesh.

"Are you mute? Can't you make any noise.. Any noise at all?" the Pyro asked. Repetition.. rhythm.. he traced infinity over the Spy's chest again, tilting his head and staring unblinkingly into the Red's eyes..

The knife kept moving and the Pyro's hot breath swept over the Spy's mouth as his jaw throbbed under that stony grip.

"I won't tell you anyzhing," the Spy said defiantly, not receiving even a moment of confidence as the blade quite suddenly and harshly plunged diagonally into his left hand collarbone. It kept close to the underside of the skin, and ripped out through his shirt to send a violent splatter of red across his chin and the Pyro's bare face.

His mouth dropped open with pained horror, eyes wide with agony though his throat could only choke. The wound gushed readily over the rim of his suspenders, dribbling down over his work belt and pooling around the pipe wrench still mockingly secured there. The Pyro began to hum, cutting the material of his shirt open further and pushing his suspenders down his shoulders as he released the Spy's jaw and let him continue choking and grinding his teeth. It was silly, really. Did the Spy honestly believe the Pyro would respect such bravado? It failed in the end, a light sob slipping into a gasp as the Pyro slid two fingers into the torn flesh and scissored them sensually.

Trying to wiggle away from the crazed Blu didn't work either, a palm suddenly moving to his forehead and shoving the back of his head against the stone wall behind it with a sharp crack. The Red was dazed, swaying with confusion and blinding pain as his jaw lolled open and shut with French sputtering and spilling out unintelligibly.

The Pyro clucked his tongue and slid the knife toward the Spy's shirt buttons. One by one he cut them open, head arched down to allow his tongue to replace his fingers in that aching wound. He nipped softly at the exposed collar bone, blood pouring around his face as he reluctantly pulled back and reached into his bag for a pure white square of cloth.

He pressed it to the Red's gushing chest, slowing the bleeding as he leaned forward heavily and pushed his blood-soaked fingers through the man's hair, "Hm.. I've made a mess.. I vhill need to fix you now.."

Grinding his teeth and focusing on the man, the Spy growled and spat toward his face. It struck him on the cheek where he merely pushed out his tongue to lick it off along with some of the blood spatter that had gathered there, "Ach schade, Herr Spy.. You need to stay still so I can work.."

He suddenly grabbed the man by the edges of his ripped shirt, throwing him down onto his back and straddling him before he could retaliate. Pinning the Spy down with a hand squarely over the rag on his chest, the Pyro procured a simple needle and thread from his bag.

The butterfly knife clattered to the ground after that, discarded on the dirty floor as the two men met eyes and the Blu began to play doctor.


	3. A Different Kind of Running

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve (OCs belong to AgentMoore and SeveruSeprentine of ). Most of this stuff remains canon as far as classes go; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

_P.S.: Terribly sorry for the wait. Got rehired - I'm employed. Hurrah._

It was entertaining to watch the Reds.

Through the scope of his long-range binoculars, 'Ramon's' boyfriend was able to watch them all scurrying around putting up the framework for what was to be their new base. Thus far it was rather small - an empty skeleton of wooden framework and steel which looked as though it could be flattened by a single rocket or a well-placed sticky bomb. Laughing audibly, the Blu Spy glanced off to his right where his green-eyed lover was standing, "Can you _believe_ zhis?" he asked with a chuckle. "No doubt we could defeat zhem right now but zhe Medics insist we do not attack.."

The disguised Red stepped over to take the binoculars and observe for himself with an amused grunt before handing them back, "Oh no doubt.. But where's the fun in that? I, for one, am curious to see where they put their octopus."

The Blu Spy smirked, turning away from the working Reds as he tucked the device away in favor of lighting a cigarette, "Ah Ramon.. Always did like to play with people, didn't you?"

The green-eyed Spy simpered and glanced over his shoulder. He already had a cigarette, a bit of smoke leaving his lips as he pretended to ignore the Blu Spy and fold his arms behind his back in a refined fashion. Predictably, he felt the Blu Spy's arms slipping around him from behind, that petite chin nestling over his left shoulder as they both gazed off toward the cloud of dusty red working off in the distance.

"Speaking of octopus, have they told you how ours is coming along?" the disguised Red asked.

The Blu gave him an affectionate squeeze, beginning to pet across his chest and work his tie loose with both hands, "Mm.. Zhey started a few weeks ago. I can only imagine zhings are going well, non?"

Well was a very subjective term.

In the weeks the Red team had taken to obtain their new locale and begin building, the Blu Medics were already working in their established base. With such an upper hand, it was no surprise that they had no interest in destroying Red for now. They had bigger plans - more pressing projects.

One such project sat placidly in a wheelchair resting in the infirmary. His eyes were narrowly lidded, a drug-induced smile on his face despite the utter absence of such chemicals in his system. Natural high. He drummed his fingers against the cold metal wheel of his chair, green-flecked blue eyes opening a bit as the infirmary doors opened and admitted the head Medic.

The Swiss doctor passed him by, approaching a locked freezer cabinet at the far end of the room. A panel to the side of the cabinet took an eyescan from him, approving with a hiss of compressed air as the door unlocked. He opened it nonchalantly, ignoring the chilly white mist rolling out over the floor around his feet as he gathered a vial from inside and promptly secured the door again.

"Don't move so slowly, doctor. We're on a deadline.." the man crooned from his wheelchair.

Ignoring him, the Medic started up a Bunsen burner, briefly setting the vial up to a gradual heat as he retrieved and swabbed a fresh syringe with rubbing alcohol. He turned down the heat, lifting the vial to shake it and thoroughly mix the contents before drawing all of it into the syringe and finally turning toward the man in the chair.

It was a Spy.

He arched a brow at the Medic, looking expectant as the doctor strolled past him again and set the syringe down in order to collect the items necessary to perform a sanitary injection. With little respect for the doctor's precautions, the Spy reached out and curled his slim fingers around the self-contained shot. He brought it near his face, admiring the thin, shining shaft of the needle and the swirling purple liquid inside of it. He became mesmerized by its slow and circular mixing, blinking with light surprise when it was rudely pulled from his grasp.

Hah.. The head Medic had returned, his expression calm though a sense of professional urgency accompanied it. "Dis _vhill _be de last of your chemical treatments, Herr Spy," he said, staring the man down for a few uneasy moments, "After dis.. You cross zhe line. Verstehst du?"

The Spy knew what he was talking about of course. Over the past few weeks he had been receiving genetic injections - blueprints for the new body he would soon be growing into. His legs had already begun to suffer and become useless; today they would be severed with surgical precision in order to allow for replacement following the injection of this last and most powerful liquid. Crossing the line.. the line between human and Tentaspy.

He grinned, purposefully-filed teeth protruding sharkishly. "Oh doctor.." he said breathlessly, looking from the syringe up into the man's lavender eyes as eagerness entered his voice, "You are so close to completing me.. Don't stop now!" Biting his lower lip in anticipation, he began to roll up his sleeve and soon presented a bare arm to the man.

The Medic tied off his upper arm, waiting for the Spy's veins to strengthen before penetrating one of them and slowly easing the mixture into his bloodstream.

He could hear the Spy hissing with clear delight, his head lolling off to one side as he stared with interest at the pumping fluid. "Mmn.. Doctor, I can _feel_ it. I feel.. _poisonous_.." Ignoring him to the best of his ability, the Swiss doctor placed a cotton ball at the injection point and gently pulled the needle out. Keeping an even pressure on it, he set the syringe aside and placed a bandage over the cotton before unwrapping the band of rubber around the Spy's upper arm.

The Spy made a grab for him, catching him on the arm with his uninjected left hand and staring up at his face with a confidant and hopeful smile, "But Doctor.. aren't you proud of me? I will be so much better than _he_ ever was.." His smooth voiced dipped lower at the mention of the escaped Decaspy, clearly a sign of distaste.

"Your surgery is set to commence in half an hour, Herr Spy. Bist du bereit?" the Medic asked, ignoring the Spy's personal sentiments in favor of professionalism. He liked things better that way - they were easier to take control of.

The hand on the Medic's arm gripped a bit tighter before reluctantly pulling away. "Oui, Monsieur Mädik," the Spy purred, choosing to use the man's last name over his job title for once. "..will you be there?" he asked warily.

The doctor didn't seem very impressed by the gesture but at least the Spy wasn't attached to him anymore, "I am zhe attending surgeon, ja."

"_You promise?" _the Spy asked in solid French.

"Der is no one more qualified to sever your legs, Herr Spy," the Medic concluded.


	4. Base Goin' Up

_Team Fortress 2 and its characters belong to Valve (OCs belong to AgentMoore and SeveruSeprentine of ). Most of this stuff remains canon as far as classes go; teams are portrayed in a more realistic manner (or as realistic as you can get with a game like this) while trying to stay true to the personalities of the characters involved. Have fun reading or simply close out of it if you don't._

_Cheers._

"Anyone seen that darn Tentaspah? Anybody? Not real _easy_ t'miss, fellas.."

The Red Engineer, usually one of the most laid back members of the team, was getting impatient at being ignored. All around him people were working: carrying wood, pushing carts, operating train and air-lifted machinery, manning tools.. The cacophony of progress easily drowned out the mechanic's voice, but he wasn't the type to just sigh and let it pass, oh no, sir!

Everyone within fifty feet came to an abrupt halt as his recently-acquired megaphone spurred to life and sent a loud, obnoxious screech into the air.

Once satisfied by all of the various looks of confusion and agony he was getting, he shut off the siren and spoke plainly into the mouthpiece, _"Ah said, I'm lookin' fer the Tentaspah. Got some liftin' needs doin', folks. Anyone seen that boy? Anybody at all?"_

People exchanged glances and shrugs, but the moment someone raised an arm the Engineer sent them all back to work and hopped down from the crate-gone-podium he'd been standing on only moments prior. He approached the lone volunteer who turned out to be the black-haired Sniper, Pierce. "Dang nabbit, nobahdy listens 'round here.."

The marksman chuckled, turning to lead the Engie toward one of the supply-toting train cars lining the back wall of what would eventually be their new base. "Oy, mate. Dun beat yourself up ov'r'it, huh? C'mon, Oy bet anything he's still in 'is bowl."

And indeed he was.

For the past fifteen minutes he'd been trying to leave the lidded container he'd been transported in, but for reasons of an embarrassing nature, he found himself.. unable. The Spy looked tense, worried! It only became worse when he heard the train car door being pulled open.

"There y'are. Son, I've been _callin' _ya for half an hour I reckon! What're you doin' in here?" the Engie accused, shaking his wrench at the Spy who, at the moment, appeared to be lounging halfway out of the top of his modest aquarium tank.

His tentacles curled apprehensively in the water beneath him, throat cleared as he smiled and tried to play things off cooly, "Erm.. Yes, but of course. I will be _right_ wizh you, Monsieur Engineer!

"Well go on, boy. I ain't got all day. See you outsahde." The Southerner grumbled to himself with stress, shaking his head as he turned to go. The Tentaspy stared after him apprehensively, frowning nervously when the Sniper exchanged stepped around the mechanic and looked in his direction.

"..Perhaps you didn't hear? I will be jhust a moment, you needn't wait for me."

The Sniper took stock of the Tentaspy for a few moments, squinting and then lifting a hand to rub his chin, "Aw'right. Out with yeh then."

OK, so perhaps that wasn't the reply he had been hoping to hear. The two stared at each other for a little while until the Tentaspy sighed and hunched over a bit. "..I can't," he admitted.

"Can't?"

"Can not."

"You.. can't get out've there?" the Sniper lifted a perplexed eyebrow.

"Non."

"How come?"

They stared again until suddenly a smile broke across the Aussie's face. The Spy rolled his eyes when the Sniper's laughter broke the silence, "Oy, mate. You're_ stuck_, aren't yeh? You're stuck in yer tank? Izzat it?" The Tentaspy grumbled wordlessly which only humored the Sniper who stepped further inside the train car and began to climb the ladder mounted against the side of the tank. Once he got to the top, he could clearly see that the issue started at the Spy's broad aquatic hips and ended at his domestically-softened human waistline.

Pointing preemptively at him, the Tentaspy snapped his fingers and commanded the sharpshooter half-heartedly, "_Taise-__**toi**_."

The Sniper smirked, not very prone to shutting up with good, witty fun to be had. "See? That's whoy I told you nawt t'lie about your measurements when the Engies asked."

"Th-those _were_ my measurements!" The Spy protested, a blush rapidly forming across the visible areas of his face.

"When?"

".."

Another round of laughter erupted from the Aussie as he crawled hand and knee toward the trapped Spy with a cheerful grin. He held out a hand, "Oy, mate. We'd best get you loose 'fore Hammond gets mad at yeh."

"Zhat Engineer looked razher irate to begin with.." the Tentaspy murmured, reluctantly accepting the Sniper's help and working with him to try and pull himself free. In the end it took an embarrassing five minutes,_ both _of the Sniper's arms, and a firm foothold against the tank just to help him out of the narrow aperture in the lid. They agreed not to speak about the incident though no doubt someone would have to be told in order to have the hatch refitted.

"Did he happen to say what he needed?" asked the Spy as he descended the side of the tank using his tentacles.

The Sniper took the ladder, meeting him at the bottom with a nod as they left the train car together, "Yeh, somethin' about liftin'. Oy imagine he wants you in the infirmary. Precision work n' awl that?"

"Ah, good," The Spy clasped his hands together with a proud grin, "Zhen he has come to zhe right man!"

Pierce showed him toward his work station, bidding him a friendly farewell as he went back to helping the other Snipers erect guard towers and defensive barricades. It had been two weeks since their initial arrival and everyone had been working overtime to at least erect shelters. Tents were strewn around the area though many were forced to take rest in the train cars themselves. It was a grungy, dirty time - much like the heat of battle though thus far no attacks had been launched from either side.

Red was too busy building, and Blu? No one had seen hide nor hair or them past the occasional logo tagged onto buildings several miles toward the mountain range. There wasn't enough excess manpower to launch an expedition - not now at least - and so the warring factions were again thrust into a delicate cease fire.

Even the Spies were pulling their weight, helping the Engineers draw up aesthetically-pleased blueprints and toting orders around the work areas to keep everyone coordinated. Demomen banded together to help with the foundation. Heavies worked the jackhammers and moved the hefty loads of supply. Scouts and Engies worked on and off together to handle the machinery and finer tools like hammers and drills. The Medics handled injuries and took status reports, working awkwardly with the Spies to keep everything running smoothly. Snipers worked small tools as well, occasionally hawking the perimeter of the base to ensure no one would be sneaking up behind the workers as Soldiers weaved in and out of the raw complex doing any number of jobs as they became necessary.

And the Pyros?

Even the _Pyros_, a class usually left to the outskirts of the team, became integral. You didn't have to understand what they were saying in order to send them to retrieve supplies and hold beams in place for securing.

Working in shifts, Red appeared to be an unstoppable building machine. Trains came every few days, trucks transporting heavy machinery, raw supplies, and tools from the tracks to the construction site. With this sort of productivity, it surprised no one when the base's electrical systems became active after the third month of building. The outer paneling of the base was more or less completed, the interior in need of some finishing touches though for the most part everything integral seemed to be in order.

The weather grew colder, the days grew shorter and, as the hammers fell silent one late autumn evening, many paused to simply admire what they had built before packing up and heading inside.

Pierre lit a new cigarette, his gloved hands resting in his pants pockets as he gazed up at the fresh face of what was to be their new base of operations. He shivered subtly with a gust of cold wind, tiny flecks of snow drifting down from the steadily-blackening sky and melting on his smoke. A shorter Spy soon joined him, his expression drawn long with drowsiness as he adjusted the cluster of tools in a bag strapped over his shoulder. "Monsieur Pierre?"

"Monsieur Anton," Pierre answered, glancing away from the building and offering his diminutive companion a smile, "Tell me.. Did we really build all of zhis?"

The shorter Spy blinked and glanced at the base with a scoff, "Not at all, it's a mirage."

A few seconds passed before Pierre grinned and laid a hand at the Spy's back. "Come along, mon ami, eet will be dark soon.." The other man didn't strike up any protest. He'd been working all day, shucking his usual arrogance in favor of being useful to anyone who needed him. As it happened, many did. Hold this beam for me. Tell me how long that pipe is. Get me a hammer. Such mundane little tasks.. But it had all felt good somehow to work with each of the different classes. To work as a team..

Pierre nodded to an Engineer guarding the door as they headed inside, smiling to himself as he parted ways with the short Spy, Anton, and headed for what would eventually become the mess hall.

He began to think as he walked, work-scuffed shoes tapping the floor with no particular attempt at subtlety while a hand lifted and shifted his burning cigarette. The lack of creature comforts, the lack of war.. It really seemed to be bringing everyone together. It wasn't that everyone was best friends and not everyone liked one another, but.. Still. There was some tolerance, there was acceptance.. There was a positive upswing in moral overall - the very kind Red would need to survive what would probably be an awful winter season.

Brushing a bit of dust from his waistcoat - he wasn't wearing the expensive jacket at the moment - Pierre pushed open the mess hall doors and headed inside.

It wasn't empty in there. The young British Medic was sitting with the recently-defected Blu Spy who was finally decked out in a proper Red uniform and mask. They were side by side, chatting quietly over piping hot tea which, due to the lack of regulated heating in the base, was probably their only means of staying off shivering. Two tables away from them sat the brunette Scout and his Pyro friend, joined for the evening by a pair of Soldiers and the one-eyed Demoman who seemed to be keeping a separate conversation with either himself or his bottle of Scrumpy - Pierre couldn't tell from this distance.

He could see Pierce sitting on the other side of the room with a brunette Sniper, the Tentaspy also with them though it was impossible for him to comfortably fit all of those tentacles beneath the table. He lingered instead at the end of it and leaned forward on his arms to try and remain a part of the conversation at hand there. His tattered, dirty Blu uniform had been replaced with, oddly enough, _another,_ more waterproofed Blu uniform. It came with a Red tie and armbands, but the Tentaspy had insisted that the dominating color remain blue.

It was at this particular table that Pierre chose to sit (after procuring some hot tea for himself of course!).

The dirty blonde Sniper was the first to notice him, a snort of amusement coming in place of a greeting, "Dun look now, mates. 'ere comes business.."

Pierre didn't take offense, smiling benevolently at Pierce and the others as he got comfortable on the standardized metal chair beneath his ass, "Evening, jhentlemen. I do hope I am not interrupting?" He plucked down his cigarette and brought his cup to his lips, reveling in the heat and scent of his tea before taking a small sip.

The Tentaspy grinned eagerly, curling his many twisting limbs inward as the other Spy joined in on whatever little party they were having, "Bonjour, Monsieur!"

Pierce decided to give Pierre a hard time, clucking his tongue dryly and looking across the table at the other Sniper, "Great, 'e interrupted n' now we've gotta start awl over. _Spoys_, y'know?" He grinned afterwards and lifted his coffee in the Spy's direction before taking a warming swig, "Evenin', fancy seein' you 'ere."

"Anyzhing interesting going on?" Pierre asked, glancing between the three men as he lowered his tea to the table and relaxed in his chair.

"Yeh," the blonde Sniper answered, reaching up to adjust his hat, "Got a Soldier what says he saw a Blu t'day. We checked - figgered 'e was bonkers or summit. Didn't foind nothin'."

The Tentaspy chuckled, lacing his fingers together and pulling up up under his chin, "Perhaps eet was a Spy? We are masters of going unfound, you know?"

"Unless it's the type with gigantic tentacles o'course," added Pierce. The Tentaspy made a face at him which he answered with a chuckle.

Pierre took the conversation with a grain of salt, smiling at the friendly jabbing taking place and eventually pressing the brunette Sniper for more information. Things seemed to be moving rather smoothly after that. Talk of domestic activities.. Talk of building, war, women.. It was nearly two hours later when the room began to clear out for the night.

Bunking had become a rather.. interesting thing.

Without the area to give every man his own room, people had taken on roommates resulting in as many as four men to each of the dorms that had been erected thus far. Pierre himself roomed with Anton and their many-cigged confidant. The adopted Blu Spy had not been invited for obvious reasons - a matter of trust had yet to be established between them all. As such, he roomed with the British Medic, the head Medic, and the lead Medic's battle companion, Dmitri, a hulking Russian Heavy who could easily take up two out of the four beds in their shared living space.

The Tentaspy had a room to himself though for all intents and purposes, it was actually a supply warehouse wherein his tank was being kept.

It was where he was headed now with Pierce strolling along at his side. "Monsieur Sniper?"

"Mister Tentaspoy?"

The Spy smiled, continuing, "..where do zhey have you sleeping? Jhust out of curiosity, of course."

They rounded a corner together, the warehouse looming up ahead as evidenced by a lone Sentry gun placed between the two double-wide access doors. It flipped upward and targeted them both as they approached, scanning silently before retracting submissively into its base.

"Officially? With Jed and Lucy," said the Sniper, trying to control the hint of amusement that slipped into his voice.

Jed, or Jedediah Hammond if you wanted to get fancy with it, was the Red Engineer who had worked the hangar door for Pierce back at the old base. The close-quarters teamwork at this new site had prompted them to exchange names and other information - like Lucy. Lucy was a hot pink turret gun who remained constantly mounted and active in the center of their combined dorm room. She had, as Jed was proud to say, the intelligence of a toddler and the spunk of a grown woman. A constant pet project, Lucy had only grown more refined and sophisticated in Jed's spare time though admittedly he hadn't had much of that during the new base's construction.

"Mademoiselle Lucy? She is a very lucky girl to have zuch roommates," said the Spy, two tentacles shooting forward to push open one of the warehouse doors and hold it for Pierce to step inside. He then followed, having grown more accustomed to land travel over the past months and having no issue crossing the cold floor on his way toward his heated tank.

Once there, however, he paused and looked at the Sniper who seemed to be admiring the quietly-bubbling aquarium.

"So I suppose you will be going now.."

Pierce looked at him, lifting a brow, "S'pose Oy will. Why?"

The Tentaspy smiled and shook his head, "Oh.. no reason, really. Bonne nuit, Monsieur." ..he noticed the Sniper wasn't leaving.

"Gonna be aw'right in 'ere awl by your lonesome?" he asked.

"I have no room to complain - eet eez heated after all, oui? I should be fine."

"Are you?"

".." The Spy stood a bit straighter, clearing his throat and nodding, "But of course, Monsieur Pierce."

"Hm," the Aussie shrugged, turning to go with a polite tip of his hat, "If you say so. I'll come by in th' morning then. G'night Jacques."

The Spy looked immensely pleased at the use of his name, smiling brightly as he crawled up the side of the tank and opened the hatch at the top. It had been refitted to a more suitable width, providing no problems as he lowered himself halfway into the water and watched Pierce leave. Sighing to himself, the Tentaspy looked around the dark room and dipped fully inside the tank. His tentacles twirled around him, one lifted to shut the hatch as he curled up like a ball of yarn and tried to sleep.


End file.
